Stephanie brushed a lock of his dark mahogany hair away from his forehead. It felt soft to the touch. She put the pad of her forefinger to his chin and tested the texture of the stubble growing there. As a little girl, she remembered the feel of her daddy’s whiskers against her cheek when he came home late from working a double shift down at the local lumber mill. He would sweep her up in his big arms and swing her up in the air so high that she could touch the ceiling. Nothing had been more reassuring than his bear hugs and those long ago whisker rubs.
Years had passed since the day of his funeral, and still Stephanie lamented the feeling that she had been robbed of a proper goodbye.
In the far recesses of her mind, she could hear her mother demanding that she remove herself from this stranger’s bed immediately. For once, Stephanie ignored the strident internal voice that had directed so much of the behavior that led others to find her aloof and reserved. For all the maternal and well-intended warnings about how men wanted nothing more from her respectable little girl than sex, her mother herself had enjoyed the intimacy of loving a man, if only for a few short years.
The warmth of this man’s body curled around hers gave Stephanie a taste of what it would be to wake up every day in such a glorious manner. She didn’t desire all the extraneous things that this pretend marriage offered. Chauffeurs and limousines and first-class accommodations and designer clothes were all well and good, but it was the closeness of loving another human with one’s whole heart that Stephanie missed the most in her solitary life.
She damned Alexander for unwittingly awakening in her the longing for a husband and family.
Last year when she turned thirty, she decided it was time to bury that long-held dream. Having never experienced romance when youth and hope had been in her favor, it seemed futile to search for Mr. Right.
When she was younger, she had dared to dream a little girl’s dream of finding Prince Charming and living happily ever after. How sad that adolescence had painfully convinced her to settle for less. Gradually, Stephanie had come to accept her lot in life. That of a prim-and-proper librarian with a dramatic flair and desire to help adolescents find their dreams before it was too late to make them a reality. The sad truth of the matter was that no handsome prince was going to come riding into her life asking for her hand in marriage. No more than exchanging the glasses she wore back in high school for a pair of contacts had transformed her into Miss America.
While Alexander Kent might not be her prince, there was no denying that he was handsome and as wealthy as royalty. Stephanie held up her hand to examine the stunning diamond on her finger. It had to be a zirconium, didn’t it? No man in his right mind would buy a rock like that when he was only playing a role that he disliked in the first place. It was only pretend. It had to be.
Why wearing that ring made her go all soft and liquid inside every time she looked at it was as startling as why her hands itched to touch Alexander’s gorgeous body as he slept blissfully ignorant of her growing desire. She ran her hands across the smooth expanse of shoulders strong enough to take on a mob if necessary to protect innocent children and their mothers from being exploited.
Such selflessness cast him in the light of an unlikely hero.
The dusting of dark hair on his chest matching that on his arms was just as appealing. Stephanie’s breathing grew shallow as she studied his mouth and imagined what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers. No wonder women lined up for miles around for a chance to taste those tempting lips. In sleep they lost the hard edge they sometimes held when he grew impatient.
Stephanie could not refrain from leaning in to press her lips against his. Eyelids that moments earlier could not have been pried open fluttered in surprise. Stephanie pulled away hoping that in his sleep-induced state he’d might think only that he dreamed such indiscretion on her part.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered. “Or should I say good afternoon?”
Thinking he should be allowed the same readjustment period that she required when waking up and finding herself intertwined in his arms, she did not fight it when Alexander’s hold upon her tightened. There would be time enough to face the cold world in which criminals stole babies for a profit. Right now, all Stephanie wanted to do was indulge in the warmth of her make-believe husband’s loving arms.
It had been a terrible mistake, if not simply a dangerous breach of etiquette, for Alex to sleep next to Stephanie. He berated himself for allowing it to happen. Hell, there could have been an old-fashioned courting board a foot thick separating him from her, and it wouldn’t have lessened the intensity of his arousal one whit. He was hard enough to cut diamonds and frustrated enough to attempt it if it would possibly help get his hormones under control. All his life, women had thrown themselves at him, and he’d never been half as enamored with any of them as he was with the demure Ms. Firth who was at this moment staring into his eyes with the same look of concern that he imagined she would give any of her love-struck students when she mistook their symptoms for the flu.
None of the contempt he felt for himself seeped into the voice he used to address her.
“Good morning, my beautiful wife.”
The dim light of day leaking through the floor-to-ceiling drapes allowed him a glimpse of the becoming blush to which he was becoming so attached.
“You don’t have to pretend when we’re not in public,” Stephanie told him, rolling away and putting her feet where they belonged—firmly on the floor.
“I know.”
It pained Alex to witness such withdrawal on her part. When most women made comments about how fat and ugly they were, he believed they were merely on fishing expeditions for compliments. It was just a way of extracting a contradiction to stroke an already oversize ego. When Stephanie turned aside his compliment, Alex suspected it was because she truly didn’t believe it.
“Come here,” he demanded, switching on the light next to the bed.
Stephanie reluctantly did as she was told. Alexander stood up and pulled her in front of a mirror strategically positioned over the bureau, providing the typical newlywed couple with an erotic view of the bed. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her as if fearing she might bolt at his next request.
“I want you to look at yourself.”
Her eyes sought his in the mirror. Alex saw panic shining in their dark, sweet depths.
“I look a fright,” she admitted.
Her hands went to smooth out the flattened cashmere sweater that she had so thoughtlessly fallen asleep wearing. Alexander had every right to be disappointed in the way she treated such an expensive gift.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Alexander’s voice was tinged with exasperation. “For making me want to be the one who made you look so mussed and sexy the instant you wake up?
He refused to let her go until she recognized what he saw reflected in that mirror.
Stephanie wished she had a tissue to wipe away the telltale smudges of mascara that she had neglected to wash off the night before. Why Alex was being so nice to her when he didn’t have to was beyond her. Such compliments merely propagated a fantasy that was bound to come crashing around her ears like some beautiful sand castle in the sky. It was enough to make her feel like bursting into tears. The sight of such a gorgeous man standing behind her wearing nothing but his rumpled trousers was a vision she hadn’t imagined seeing anyplace but in her dreams.
“Would you mind if I take a shower before you do?” she asked.
Many responses to that particular question ran through Alex’s mind. It was a challenge to force the only one that was socially polite through his clenched lips.
“By all means, go right ahead.”
She slipped from his grasp like the proverbial bunny out of a magician’s hat, leaving Alex feeling bereft. How many times had he awakened with some woman in his bed racking his brain for the best way to make such a nimble getaway himself? Was this the way they felt when he
bolted on them?
Having the tables turned on him made Alexander realize how his fear of intimacy prevented the kind of tender moment that he had just shared with a woman who seemed to be as afraid of commitment as he was. He amended that thought with a shake of his head. If the right man came along, he suspected that Stephanie would not hesitate to grab on with both hands and never let go. She was afraid of getting close to Alexander Kent, the notorious playboy. The thought made him immeasurably sad.
Not that he could blame someone so pure for wanting to avoid falling for someone the Texas Tattler delighted in portraying as a scallywag and rogue. While such an image suited his purposes as an undercover agent for the Cattleman’s Club, it suddenly seemed awfully heavy to wear for the rest of his life.
The sound of water running in the next room shook Alex from his gloomy thoughts and put him in mind of more erotic ones. The thought of pinning Stephanie against a shower wall and having his way with her under the warm, inviting water was enough to make him groan aloud. Rather than tormenting himself further or satisfying his curiosity by sneaking a peek through the steamy glass at her voluptuous female body that he had cradled through the night, he reached for the phone to order room service. In a futile attempt to stave off a seemingly insatiable appetite, he could do little more than try substituting one hunger for another.
Seven
Stephanie stepped out of the shower a composed woman. There was nothing like washing away a good long cry in a cascade of hot water. Ever since Alexander had slipped that gorgeous engagement ring upon her finger, she’d given in to the temptation of taking her role as his wife seriously. She rationalized her behavior with a reminder that even the best actors and actresses occasionally succumbed to the pull of a strong character. Heavens, the newspapers were littered with articles about stars carrying their on-screen romances into real life. Their torrid affairs were the stuff of tabloids and television specials.
Her own fantasies were the stuff of an overactive imagination that she intended to get under control before anyone got hurt. Her own name appeared first and foremost on that list.
Stephanie tried not to be too hard on herself. A woman would have to be made of the same stone as the statues adorning nearby Caesar’s Palace not to succumb to Alexander Kent’s magnetism when he switched on the charm. Her heart twinged with longing that someday the part of the adored wife might become a reality, but it could not interfere with her reason for being here in the first place. Too many people were counting on her, to let her heart to get caught up in a two-week charade.
She was sure that someone as sophisticated and worldly as Alexander would scoff at her simple dream of settling down with a good, if not all that exciting, man who loved her for who she was. So Stephanie decided the only way to survive this “marriage” was to keep her heart safely out of things and never let Alexander pierce her emotional armor. By the time the hot water in the shower turned tepid, she was armed with a healthy attitude and renewed spirits.
Her newfound poise lasted right up until she looked around and discovered the clothes she had taken into the bathroom were nowhere to be found. Unsure of how to react to Alexander’s little practical joke, she had little choice but to walk into the bedroom and confront him wearing nothing but a fluffy hotel towel.
“What did you do with my clothes?” she demanded to know.
Alex almost spilled his coffee at the sight of his half-dressed warrior bride storming into the room. Wet dark tendrils spilled over white shoulders and framed fresh-faced beauty. Lordy, if his partner looked this good first thing in the morning without all the painstaking primping that other women insisted on before even considering the possibility of letting another human being gaze upon its imperfections, Alex didn’t know how he was going to maintain the professional detachment this mission required of him.
“I had them sent to the cleaners,” he said, hoping he needn’t protect himself with a butter knife. He had never seen her looking quite so fierce—or lovely. “I ordered your breakfast, too. I hope neither gesture was too presumptuous.”
Stephanie’s mouth dropped open. It had never occurred to her that Alexander might simply be doing something nice for her.
“Of c-course not,” she stammered. She sniffed the air appreciatively.
The smell of gourmet coffee enticed her to grab the bathrobe Alex had laid out on the bed for her and hustle back into the privacy of the bathroom. She returned a moment later. The white-linen cart that had been wheeled into the room was laden with fresh fruit and whipped cream and the biggest Belgian waffles she had ever seen.
Unable to resist such a tempting setting, she took a seat across from Alex and gazed out the window toward the skyline of the city.
“This is lovely,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” Alex replied, never once taking his eyes off of her.
That Stephanie appeared oblivious to his compliment didn’t dampen her appetite any. It was a rare treat for Alex to eat with a woman like Stephanie. Once she got over the disappearance of her clothes, she settled into a delightful mood, pouring coffee for him whenever his cup ran low and taking every opportunity to rub in the fact that she had beaten him in the wager they had made last night. She had quite a time deciding upon which dinner show he was going to have to take her to as a result of losing that bet.
“What are you going to buy with your winnings? Maybe a fur coat or a special piece of jewelry to wear to the show tonight?” Alex asked, suggesting the first thing that came to mind.
“Heavens no!” Stephanie exclaimed. “I’m going to use that money to pay off the loan on my car. If there’s any left over, I’d like to put it toward new costumes for our play. Juliet’s skirt is on the verge of separating from the bodice in that old dress I’ve got her in.”
She paused thoughtfully. “I do hope they are all working on their lines over the break.”
Alex thought the way she had of biting her lower lip when worried was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. It made him want to bite it himself.
“I might be able to pitch in for such a good cause myself,” he told her, hoping to entice her into splurging on a little luxury item for herself. “We wouldn’t want fair Juliet spilling more than fake blood upon the stage of Royal’s theater.”
Stephanie laughed. “Indeed not!”
She was on the verge of telling him how centuries ago, kind benefactors had provided most of the costuming at Shakespeare’s Globe in old England from their own wardrobes, discarding clothes they no longer wanted. Then she remembered her mother’s admonitions that her interest in these kinds of subjects turned men off. Her mother was probably right. Alexander would likely appreciate a history lesson right now as much as she would enjoy a discussion on world finances.
Besides, it was time to discuss the business at hand. They were here posing as a married couple unable to have children. Their mission was to infiltrate the shady adoption service where their key informant, Natalie Perez, believed Dr. Roman Birkenfeld was selling stolen babies to desperate wealthy clients. Natalie could provide them only with the name of the agency and a list of names she had written down while she was in the doctor’s employment. Now it was up to Stephanie and Alex to get hold of the hard evidence needed to prove those suspicions true and discover the rest of the culprits involved.
“Where do we begin?” Stephanie asked.
It was all she could do to refrain from using the corner of her napkin to wipe off a hint of marmalade from the corner of her partner’s mouth. The thought of licking it off instead caused her hand to tremble as Alexander reached across the table and covered it with one of his own. Flinching at his touch, she recoiled as if a snake had just struck her.
A frown crossed his features.
“First I’ll contact the private agency, set up an appointment, and try to convince them we’re in the market for a baby. It would help considerably to that end if you could stop acting scared whenever I touch you. I’d rather they think we haven’
t conceived a child after innumerable and pleasurable sexual encounters, not because you find me some terrifying monster.”
Alex kept his expression bland, but Stephanie’s reaction stung. It was disconcerting to think his advances could be construed as repugnant. A man would have to have ice in his veins not to feel something for the woman who had spent the night sleeping in his arms. A woman whose curves fit against the hard planes of his body as if she had been specially ordered just for him. A woman whose smile put all the lights of Vegas to shame.
Sleeping was, of course, the operative word.
Alex didn’t know how much longer he could maintain control under such tempting circumstances, but a cold shower was in order. He stood up abruptly.
Stephanie apologized for putting that thunderous crease in his forehead. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not used to…” Her voice trailed off.
“Not used to what?” he demanded to know. “Having a man shower you with attention? Treat you like a desirable and—”
“Not used to a man period!”
That revelation left twin marks of shame burning on her cheeks.
It hit Alex between the eyes like a bullet with his name on it.
While he accepted without question that his partner was a woman of virtue, it had never occurred to him that she might still be a virgin. He would rather face the Mafia single-handedly than have to deal with the emotional impact of this complication. Mr. Use ’Em and Lose ’Em Kent wasn’t nearly as callous as he’d like others to believe. Hence, his association with the Texas Cattleman’s Club in the first place.
It was time he admitted to himself, if not to Stephanie, that what he was feeling for her went a lot deeper than physical attraction alone. The little boy who had been abandoned by his mother had grown into a bachelor who had foresworn marriage altogether. In fact, he’d often delighted in referring to that sacred institution as the worm that conceals the hook. Any woman who remained a virgin past her twenties was definitely not into one-night stands—or two-week Vegas stands for that matter. Such a woman was looking for a long-term commitment, a family and kids, not a brief affair with a playboy.
Pretending with the Playboy Page 7
